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When I was small, on Easter mornings, I'd run to look out the bathroom window. Standing on the toilet and looking out this window gave me a birds eye view of the backyard. This was the best vantage point for spotting any of our brightly colored eggs that the Easter bunny may have hidden in our backyard. Then I'd run down to find my Easter basket. My mother recycled baskets from previous years, but you would not have known this because she always redecorated them with beautiful elaborate bows. Our baskets always contained one new plush bunny rabbit, a chocolate bunny, and some sort of trinket. I'm sure during my Strawberry Shortcake years, that Easter basket contained something Strawberry Shortcake. There were also the usual candies like jelly beans and chocolate eggs in the baskets.

Just about the worst thing ever was running to that bathroom window and seeing that it was raining. I don't know why. Our baskets still had pretty bows and were filled with goodies. Eggs still got hidden. They just got hidden in the living room instead of outside. It's just that hunting eggs in the expanse of my parent's backyard was so much more fun than looking for them under the couch or a lampshade. Sometimes on rainy Easter mornings, the eggs wouldn't be hidden at all. They'd still be crammed in our baskets along with the treats. The sight of my carefully died eggs still in my Easter basket on Easter morning always made my heart sink and mumble something about how the Easter bunny is a jerk.

Turns out that as an adult, rain is not the worst thing to see out the window on Easter morning. Snow is. Snow. Big wet snow flakes that stick to the cars and form a blanket on the lawn. That has become my new worst. Except, thinking about it now, I realize that if it had snowed on Easter when I was a kid, I would have been over the moon ecstatic. I've gotten cantankerous in my wiser years and cold and snow makes me raise my cane up and shake it at the sky. My cane looks a lot like a camera. By noon, it had all cleared up and the sun came out all in time for Easter services at Terry's which included an egg hunt and the annual burning of the Easter bunny effigy. We ate a lot of egg related food and I still have a half a gallon tub full of deviled egg dip in our fridge. Our fresh eggs looked like we had chewed the shells off, so we just threw it all together in the food processor (minus the shells) with deviled egg spices. Google deviled egg dip. It's totally a thing.

We all had a grand time at Terry's, even Josephine who got to run with other dogs and be doted on by people other than me or Michael (just me, Michael never dotes), but the whole time I couldn't help but think about Easter's of long ago. I couldn't help but remember the matching Easter dresses or the traditional annual family picture. Most of all, I couldn't help but remember my brother in those baby blue suits, the bell bottoms making him look taller than the sky and how he'd always hide the Easter eggs. As many times as I would ask. That seems to be his way. All I have to do is ask and he's there. I've outgrown the need for him to hide eggs for me. Egg hiding has become things like help us instal a water line or advice on installing a door on the chicken coop. When we talked about installing a new fence around the backyard, he started mentally compiling plans and tools that he'd need. That's the kind of guy he is.

Today is my brother's birthday. Today is a great day to tell him that I appreciate and love the guy he is. Thanks, Randy for all the hidden Easter eggs and Happy Birthday!